


Work it out

by MasonRust



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Drabble, Family, Gen, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5134688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasonRust/pseuds/MasonRust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's down from Five for training and rest, but the rest bit is hard to come by. Reference to drinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work it out

John hit the bag over and over again, feeling the skin on his knuckles sting as it grated across the bag. He just didn’t want to think, just hit the bag as he worked out his mind across the fabric. Up on Five he could only sleep when he was too exhausted to stay awake, his brain firing never-ending thoughts across his mind. Maybe, John supposed, if he stayed out here long enough he could get a proper nights sleep. Carefully pulling his thoughts back to now, John focused on the feeling in his limbs, the sound of his blows in his ears as he hit the bag. There was nothing but sweat and blood in his ears and John’s knuckles hurt but he kept going. He wasn’t nearly done.

Scott could hear the sound of the punching bag swinging on its hook along with the rhythmic sounds of flesh and fabric. It had been sounding for the last hour, over and over and over. He rested the spine of the book he was reading on the desk and looked out of the window. In the dark Scott could only make out the slight glow of the lights down in the training area. Tapping the spine against the table, Scott put it down and made his way down the stairs. Gordon and Alan were fast asleep, Virgil on his way back from a cave-in in Brazil and Kayo probably on patrol. There was only one person left on the island who could be downstairs, but Scott had known who it was anyway. 

Sweat was dripping a trail down John’s face as he hit the bag, and Scott knew from experience that each of those blows was enough to knock a man down. John was breathing hard, and each time he stopped, he only waited a couple of seconds before going back to the bag. Scott stood in the shadows for a long minute, watching John work something out of his system that was stubbornly remaining.   
“I think you’ve pulped whoever is on that bag.”  
John didn’t start, didn’t even look up, just steadied the bag with one hand.   
“I hit Gordon.”  
“You were training, weren’t you?”  
“I split his lip.”  
That explained the crease between John’s eyes as he turned to Scott. Scott shifted his gaze to the bag, noting the red streaks across the blue.   
“It was training. We all hit each other when we train.”  
“Yeah but I said I- you know what happened.”  
“You got very good at martial arts and then you stopped. John, Gordon’s tough, he’ll be fine.”  
John shook his head and rested his hand against the bag. Scott wandered closer.   
“Something else you need to say?”  
“Nothing that I want to.”  
Scott wasn’t sure whether he’d gotten better at reading John, or he simply felt the same thing. There was always something left over in their line of work, something to let out. John gave him a very tired grin that was more a twist of his lips.   
“Why did we decide to do it?”  
“Because Dad said we couldn’t. Besides, you can’t bottle everything up forever. It’s good to work it out.”  
John couldn’t see it, but Scott could. John had always bottled everything up, and he needed an outlet. He leaned against the bag and regarded his brother. John was panting as he looked back.   
“I’m going to stay out a little longer.”  
“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Maybe we can have that drink we both desperately need.”  
“Sounds like a plan.”

John watched Scotts back as he retreated across the lawn before turning back to the bag. Squaring his shoulders, John began to hit the material, one, two, three, one two three. Tonight he was going to get a good night’s sleep.


End file.
